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Hues of progress
---- Lawkeeper's Office This is a small office hewn out of the granite, the texture of the walls left rough and mostly unadorned. A wooden desk with a highback chair sits just to the side of the door. Near the back of the room, a decent sized alcove has been formed, blocked by a metal, hinged grating with a primitive-looking mechanical lock. A stone staircase winds off from the back corner, presumably to the apartment above. ---- A faint whisper of inquiry reaches through the doorway, bearing the familiar mental signature of the Intermezzo. ~Voluanfel, do you have time?~ Voluanfel tilts his head slightly, stopping in mid-strum on his latra. He sets the ovular stringed instrument, framed in ornately carved wood, on the table and rises to his full height. ~Enter,~ he sends. Two figures file in, the tall stiff-moving form of Volorualanaya first. She smiles, clothed in serene green-pink light; both she and Volosordogne following her have an undeniable air of satisfaction about them. The short Overture hurries past the other, moving up to the desk with a grin on his face. < I think we've done it, > he says, < I think we've reached the point of decision. > Voluanfel lifts his generous brows, awash in an aura of lavender, and an easy smile drifts across his careworn features. the Coda inquires. Volosordogne laughs quickly, almost a childlike note of delight in his voice. Sudden high gold surrounds him, and he glances at the tolerantly smiling Volorulanaya before turnign his crimson-tinted gaze back on the Coda. he says with some satisfaction, Voluanfel nods slowly, settling back into the chair behind his desk, his own aura dancing with silvery gold for a moment before shifting to a neutral warm parchment hue. The wooden chair, handcrafted and held together by wooden bolts, seems to grunt just slightly under his weight. The spokes of the high-back creak as he leans against them. he says, lacing his fingers together. The female moves forward now and Volosordogne glances at her and steps back with a wry flash. Her expression is somewhat grave, though that could simply be an accompaniment to the red twinges at her joints as she leans her weight against the desk. she starts slowly, Her aura smoothes to a placid, thoughtful green; Volosordogne's sigh is not quite audible as he refrains from fidgiting. The yellow shifts to a brighter hue as Voluanfel nods in response to the female's statement. Volorualanaya says quietly, she smiles a little mischeviously, pink flaring around her in watercolour tones, Voluanfel ahs and nods, his aura shading slightly burgundy as he reaches out of habit for a scroll and quill. He shifts forward in his chair so he can access a small pot of greenish-blue ink. Dipping the quill point once, twice, a third time, he then says, Watching patiently, the Intermezzo picks up after a moment, her voice very slow and calm, Her aura trends slowly to a faint copper-shaded blue as she goes on, During the speach her glance moves back to Volosordogne; he looks more resigned than happy now. Voluanfel etches the curving letters upon the scroll in the traditional, formal vertical fashion, the calligraphy falling down the page like the curling foam of a spilling waterfall crashing down unseen rocks. He begins the second column, which builds from a base to a spire before making the third column plunge. But as his hand prepares to make that dive with the quill, he glances up at his comrades. Volosordogne breaks in, his expression quickening with shivers of low smoke oranges, At a glance from Volorualanaya he breaks off with a sigh, his aura dimming with traces of pinkish brown. <-but,> he finishes, With a nod and a continuance of that implacable serenity that dissolves the air around her with green, the female murmurs, Voluanfel nods agreement, a dour blue cascading about him as he continues the journey down the third column. < I have no illusions about the greater will of the Vollistan people, > he says, swirls of purple pulsating through his aura as he finishes the column and places the scroll under the glow of a flickering candle, to dry. < If the consensus shifts, we must shift with it. The tempo and key may change, but the performers must keep pace and tone. > With quick, almost angry assurance the shorter Vollistan interjects, He quiets quickly, though, with a faint chuckle and another wry flash. The Intermezzo murmurs with a trace of pink returning to her light, Her voice drops lower, and she straightens stiffly to recite with extreme care, She pauses for breath, the shattered blue-reds that came with the last sentence easing. Voluanfel blinks, a quizzical pink veiling his aura as he reaches uncertainly for the still-drying scroll. A chuckle breaks from Volosordogne's corner of the room, and he mutters, Volorualanaya simply continues, Her voice is very steady, forced into the expressionlessness of recital, though shattering disquiet envelops her hazily through lingering whispers of green. When she stops, the male adds offhandedly, The Coda's aura pales to near translucence and his jaw drops. He shakes his head, reaching once more for the scroll. He takes up the quill and dips it with a trembling hand toward the pot. It takes three tries just to get it *into* the pot. Once he succeeds, he begins etching letters from bottom to top in a fourth column. He sighs. Volorualanaya subsides into silence for a time; Volosordogne takes over in a controlled quick spattering of words, his aura betraying the chill greys of fear and harsh red sppeckles very clearly. < I am /told/ > he says, stressing the last word with a glance at the Intermezzo, Again his words subside, the intensity of them whispering away into echoes and the bright dancing shades of his aura. Voluanfel tilts his head, sliding the scroll back under the glow of the candle and taking up the latra perched on the table. Strumming the strings lightly, crimson sputters through his aura with dark undertones of cobalt. He cradles the latra in the crook of his arm and says, Volorualanaya reassures, < It is only form now; there is some fair amount to be set down yet though. > She recovers her equinamity quickly, and already her expression is serene again; Volosordogne takes several moments longer, frowning through his silence. Voluanfel smiles mordantly, shaking his head. He then takes the latra from the crook of his arm and begins to pluck at the strings, devoting his focus anew to the song. The shift in direction is accepted by Volorualanaya effortlessly; she listens with a rapid glimmering shade of brightness that matches the music in silence. The male's impatience breaks through quickly, though, and he bites his lip and runs a hand over his neatly braided hair. Finally he catapaults in the direction of the door, quickly, leaving with a muttered, < It's only formality now. My sister... > and leaves the two. The Coda's long, slender fingers dance along the strings of the latra, evoking notes like teardrops on porcelain. His own aura eases through shifting shades of teal throughout. Green shifts downwards, forest-dark strands weaving tendrils through depths of turquoise around Volorualanaya; the light eases up through her loose-woven silver robe with slow solemn cadence. Her eyes are closed, and a tiny smile smoothes the serenity of her lips. Voluanfel opens his own eyes as the final plinking note is strummed, then places the latra upon the table with reverence and care, as if it were made from fragile crystal rather than the rough-hewn wood of the resilient Vollistan forests. Volorualanaya remains very still as the sound dies away, her aura whispering down into subtly happy pale greens around her spare form. She waits, or perhaps savours the lingering chords of memory; at any rate she is silent for the present. The candlelight flickers in tandem with Voluanfel's purplish aura as he inquires. < Is there something more? My journals await, but I have time, if required, to provide further clarity. > With a slight nod the Intermezzo continues along the earlier track; only the lingering hues about her mark the shift in the path of the meeting. She drops into recital again, monotone. Voluanfel nods slowly. the Intermezzo affirms, her voice weighted, Her eyes are suddenly unveiled, the palest of tin, and her serene gaze seeks Voluanfel. Voluanfel meets the gaze, reclines in the wooden chair and laces his fingers together. The tips of his long thumbs meet and his aura bleeds ripples of blue and green from that digital apex, overtaking the previous purple in an illuminatory flood. First a long, steadying breath parts Volorualanaya's lips. When she begins to speak it is in that same steady expressionless rhythm as before, the words spaced evenly and clearly for the length of the speech. She goes on for some time: Voluanfel knits his brow ever so slightly, warning orange sparking through his aura. With an orange that matches Voluanfel's exactly, the Intermezzo presses her lips together. A swallow traces motion down her lean throat, and she answers reluctantly, Orange dissipates, blue and dove grey filtering through her robe; sh emurmurs, < It is a law built upon a law, alienlike, the first step towards creating a controlling entity that is now Vollista's will. I know this. How it could be different no one knows. > Voluanfel nods, sighing. Volorualanaya leans very slightly forward, stiff red throbbing accompanying the motion. she says softly, a smile tracing through her eyes, She ends on a note of copper-warm, a shifting floating cloud of hope. His own aura returning to parchment yellow, the Coda nods. The female stands gingerly, more red marking the process in lightning-flashes. she says, Voluanfel smiles and bows his head, aura dancing with blues and lavenders. A trailing thought of goodwill extends from Volorualanaya, and she heads from the room smiling, her bare feet silent on the stone. category:Classic Vollistan logs category:Classic Political logs